


Pigs Don't Have Wings, They Have Time Travel

by Lunarwolfik



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-22
Updated: 2010-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarwolfik/pseuds/Lunarwolfik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the TARDIS is moving through time and space, sometimes things get mixed up. Usually, it is fairly innocuous, like the swimming pool migrating to the office or the air filling up with static electricity (a problem now with his floppy hair, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pigs Don't Have Wings, They Have Time Travel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for craven for the Doctor Who Anything Goes Comment Fic Meme

When the TARDIS is moving through time and space, sometimes things get mixed up. Usually, it is fairly innocuous, like the swimming pool migrating to the office or the air filling up with static electricity (a problem now with his floppy hair, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it).

Sometimes it's a bit more dangerous, like Donna popping up out of thin air to yell him.

And sometimes it was just plain weird.

Such as a wicker basket full of small baby pigs making small baby pig noises at his feet.

Amy immediately comes over and starts unabashedly cooing at them. He backs away.

"Oh, you're adorable," she says, picking up one and scrunching her face at it in a way he would decidedly not say was adorable in and of itself as well.

She looks at him hopefully and he knows where this is going.

"Can we keep them?" Amy asks innocently, holding up the small wiggly pig that's still making snuffling noises.

"I-you-you don't know where they've been," he finally decides is the best course of action. Because, well, they're tiny pigs and there was no reason for him to be weirded out by them, but he maybe, kinda, was.

"Well they're here now and we can't very well throw them out the front door. It's a bit cold and airless at the moment," she responds, still cuddling the pig.

He eyes it and the other two wearily.

"I thought I told you, no pets in the TARDIS. She doesn't like the noise."

"But just look at them. They're tiny and wiggly and cute. And they're smart! Not Time Lord smart, but they can open doors and stuff."

The Doctor sighed. "I am not having this conversation about randomly appearing baby pigs."

"I'll find you some more fish and custard."

"Alright, fine. But I'm not happy about it."

In the end, the pigs turn out to be more bother than he bargained for.

***

When the pigs start disappearing and reappearing the Doctor begins to suspect something is wrong.

"I think something is wrong," he tells Amy a few days, two planets, and three packets of custard later.

She looks at him quizzically. "Just in general, or..."

"With the pigs," he replies, waving a hand in their general direction.

"Oh, not this again," she says, rolling her eyes pointedly.

"No, I'm being serious! Look," he says, pointing at the one with a black and white coat nonchalantly standing by the coat rack.

"Yeah, it's Alfred."

"Alfred?"

"Yep."

"That's not a proper name for a pig."

"Is too."

"Anyway, look, Alfred is floating."

"What?" Amy shifts her stubborn gaze to the pig that was decidedly defying gravity. Except by the time she did, he'd politely started playing by the rules of physics again. His snuffling snort almost sounded like a laugh.

"Clearly, you've gone mad," Amy tells him, lips twitching into a small smirk.

The Doctor sighs inwardly and vows to figure out what's going on.

***

The following day he catches one on the ceiling. His sonic screwdriver, however, reveals nothing. It just hums merrily at the creature, utterly useless and frustrating.

"I really need to readjust you," he mumbles at it as the pig blissfully trots along.

Amy, of course, is no help. She tells him that the many long lonely days of space travel have affected his brain and that he's imagining things. Or that he simply wants to get rid of them. This statement is made with narrowed eyes and a tightening clutch on Alfred as she feeds it some corn. He doesn't remember stocking any corn.

"I'm serious Amy, they're trouble. Big trouble. Big trouble in tiny packages." He points a finger at the happily eating Alfred. "I'm on to you," he says, trying for a commanding tone but it comes out a little wobbly for his tastes.

Amy laughs at him instead and just starts ignoring him after that.

After a week, he finds one of them (Fiona, he thinks) raiding his closest and forming a very large pile of clothes in the middle of the floor. He eyes it suspiciously. The pig snorts back. And then turns purple.

It's not until they actually grow wings that Amy finally admits something might just be a little bit wrong.


End file.
